


The Last I Love You

by clown_ish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anal Sex, Angst, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester, Dean smells nice, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Love, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, One Shot, Pining, Roommates, Smut, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22386337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clown_ish/pseuds/clown_ish
Summary: Resigned to drinking himself to sleep whilst his roommate, best friend, and secret love goes off on another date, Castiel is shocked by a series of text messages that will forever change the nature of their relationship. Can he and Dean get past their hang-ups to see what's been right in front of them for years?
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 143
Kudos: 669
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection, The Destiel Self-Rec Favs Collection





	The Last I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello *waves* This is my first ever published fic, not to mention first m/m, so I'm ridiculously nervous about posting 😅 Endless thanks to my fantastic beta, [mrshays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrshays/pseuds/mrshays), who cheered me on through the whole thing!
> 
> Hope you enjoy my take on these two adorable idiots.

Castiel smelled Dean before he saw him.

The bathroom door gave way to a wall of steam as Dean stepped out, Castiel's back to him at the breakfast bar where he hunched over a table littered with papers, a bowl of soggy wheat O's, and a doorstop that could hold open a vault (otherwise known as _War and Peace_ ). The thin vapor wisped across the short distance to the kitchen and caught in Castiel's nostrils, almost cartoon-like. He stopped chewing and inhaled, his body on tenterhooks.

When Dean showered to settle down for a night in, he had a light, fresh soapy scent, clean and cozy and devoid of the sharp tang of cologne.

Castiel hated that cologne.

It smelled amazing and all he wanted to do was bury his nose into Dean's neck to see how Dean's sweat improved the scent, but he hated it all the same because of what it meant.

Castiel inhaled again and felt the anchor drop in his stomach. Spice and smoke. Dean was going out.

Forcing his jaw to continue mechanically mashing the tasteless mush he no longer had an appetite for, Castiel adjusted his glasses and scanned the text in front of him, failing to find his place. He was distracted by small sounds coming from the man behind him: springs slightly creaking as Dean dropped to the couch, the hush of rubber across carpet as he dragged his good shoes out from under the coffee table, the soft hum of a song Castiel didn't recognise vibrating in his roommate's throat.

Castiel didn't want to turn around, didn't want to add a visual to the movie his mind had written, directed, and played on torturous repeat every time Dean went to the bar:

_The clench of Dean's jaw as his eyes flick hungrily over a faceless woman sat across the room. The curl of Dean's calloused fingers as they tangle in silky hair, her head tipped back to better slide plush lips against perfumed neck. The slow grate of Dean's zipper as delicate fingers slip inside and force a gasp from his mouth. The twist of tongues and desperate breaths as Dean's hand works sinuously beneath her skirt. The effortless strength of Dean's hips pinning her to the sweat-slick leather of Baby's backseat as her beautiful curves writhe beneath him, the place between Dean's eyebrows pinched into a tight wrinkle, eyes screwed shut, mouth agape in ecstasy as he spills into her perfect warmth._

It took effort to swallow the cardboard pulp in his mouth but Castiel managed it, resting the spoon quietly on the table and pushing the half-empty bowl away with a fist full of white knuckles.

Dean must have noticed the tiny, controlled movements coming from the table because Castiel's prayers of being able to feign absorption in his book until Dean disappeared went ignored.

"Hey Cas, I'm headed out now."

Castiel grunted distractedly, his typical response when engrossed in a good book. "Okay, see you later."

"If I play my cards right you won't see me until tomorrow."

Castiel heard the lewd curl of Dean's lip in his voice and bit back the burn of bile roaring through his chest. He tossed a thumbs up over his shoulder then turned a page of the book, plenty practiced at the fine art of bluffing nonchalance and pushing his feelings down, down.

"Aren't you at least gonna wish me luck?"

There really was no God. If there had been, He would've magicked Dean out the door and left Castiel to his evening with the quarter bottle of vodka he knew lingered in the cupboard from Christmas. He couldn't evade Dean for a third time without coming off like an ignorant dick, though it might have been worth it not to have to look at him. No, best just to play along, boost his best friend's ego, wish the man he's been in love with since they moved in together three years ago a good night of fucking someone else.

Castiel took a deep breath through his nose and turned, a too-wide smile spread thinly across his face.

 _Oh, for fuck's sake_.

The deep emerald shirt stretched taut across Dean's chest, tapering down to narrow hips encircled by a worn tan belt. Inky denim jeans cradled his thighs and flared just slightly at the hems, emphasising the bow of his legs. Castiel had been right about Dean opting for the good shoes; saddle brown leather that matched his belt and accentuated the gold in his hair. On their way back up Dean's body, Castiel's eyes lit upon lightly freckled forearms, bronzed from constant exposure at the construction site where he worked, bare for the rolled-up sleeves just below the crease of his elbow.

Castiel daren't glance any higher; couldn't look at Dean's face. It would break him.

He cleared his throat and quickly reset the smile that had distorted into something which probably looked a lot like pure, pathetic longing. It was easier to speak to Dean's ear, concentrating on the softness of the lobe, the curve of the shell.

_Just say something that will make him leave faster so you can break down in peace._

"Good luck, Dean. I hope you meet a nice woman and have a successful night. I probably won't be up later anyway, I have to finish the translations of another three chapters, so..." Castiel was half-turned back to his book when Dean let out a throaty chuckle, drawing Castiel's traitorous eyes right up to his.

" _‘Meet a nice woman and have a successful night’,_ god you're such a nerd. Turns out I've actually got a _date_ this time." Dean bounced his eyebrows and grinned, pulling his phone from his back pocket. "The office girls at work got me on something called Grindr, I don't know."

A date. Fuck. Well, he'd seen Dean in all his flawless glory now, the damage was done. _Might as well spend as much time with him as possible before you curl up on the couch with Mr. Smirnoff._

Castiel huffed, rolling his eyes. "I think you mean Tinder, Dean. Grindr is the app _I'd_ use to... hook up," he said the phrase with a grimace, "if I were going to do that."

"What do you know about Grindr, Cas?" Dean smirked and crossed the space between them, resting his forearms on the table next to Castiel as he scrolled through some menus on his phone. "You on there?"

Castiel scoffed out a laugh. "It's against staff code at the university."

Dean stared him out.

Castiel arched an eyebrow and the other man withered slightly. "No, Dean, I'm not on Grindr."

"Hey, I'm not judging. You gotta get your rocks off somehow right?"

Castiel felt scorn contort his features. "Oh, because that's the only way I could possibly get someone to sleep with me, by ordering them in like a pizza."

"I think you're confusing dating apps and hookers there, man," Dean snickered and slung his left arm across Castiel's shoulder, pulling him in. "I'm just messing with ya, after all, I'd be pretty damn hypocritical to chew you out about it. Besides, you know you could have any guy you wanted jump in your bed without needing any of that shit. That is," he carefully took his arm back and glanced away, "if you were into… _that..._ at all." 

Castiel was struck a little dumb by Dean insinuating he was good looking enough to have any man he wanted, but it was pointless thinking anything of it. Dean was just being kind, it's who he was - he lifted everyone around him up (when he wasn't ribbing them to death, but that was just his unique brand of humor). It was one of the endless reasons Castiel loved him so much.

"I'm not asexual, Dean." 

"You're not?" he turned back with a look of genuine astonishment. "I mean, I know you're gay obviously but when it comes to that side of things I guess I always assumed… like, you never bring any guys back here or anything."

Castiel removed his glasses and pretended to clean the lenses on the hem of his shirt, desperate to steer the conversation away from speculation of why he never brought anyone home, into _their_ space, before Dean stumbled across the real reason.

Neither did his roommate need to know about the unsatisfying head Castiel occasionally traded with the math professor in the faculty bathroom just to take the edge off.

It wasn't like Dean brought women back to their apartment either- a small mercy Castiel had spent three years eternally thankful for. He pasted false smile #24 on his lips, knowing it didn't reach his eyes. _Just pretend for a little longer._

"You shouldn't assume. It makes an _ass_ out of _you_ and _me._ " 

Dean barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "That's actually funny, man. Where's my humor-deficient best friend and what have you done with him?" 

Castiel just rolled his eyes and replaced his glasses, tilting his head toward the phone to see that Dean actually _was_ on Grindr, not Tinder. He seemed to be trying to access his messages to show Castiel his date. 

"I think the women at work have been pulling your leg, Dean. Grindr is a queer-only app."

Dean visibly tensed. "Cas, I told you ages ago I was with a dude."

Castiel nodded, he did know this, much to his personal anguish on the topic- like the time he was ruminating on it at work and one of the other staff flipped on the radio in the teacher's lounge. Castiel was sure some malicious deity was looking down and laughing when the Yvonne Fair song “It Should've Been Me” screamed out at him from the tinny speakers.

"I know, but you said it was just a one-off thing in college. You've only ever dated women since we've lived together." Castiel froze, his brow furrowed. "Haven't you?"

Dean pinked and rubbed the back of his neck, irrefutable proof of his discomfort. At that moment Castiel knew Dean had been with other men, god knew how many. It was a horribly sobering thought that Castiel struggled to compute.

Dean _liked_ men, was _attracted to_ men, _slept_ with men - just not him.

As torturous as he thought it had been imagining Dean fucking women, Castiel dealt with it because he thought that - apart from one drunken experiment in college that was so common it was almost a rite of passage - Dean was straight as a die. Dean's inherent heterosexuality was the reason Castiel assumed he would never stand a chance, and he could live with that. Now, he realised, Dean _did_ like men that way… Castiel just wasn't one of them.

How could he be though? Dean could've easily made it big as a _GQ_ model. Castiel, on the other hand, could've been mistaken for a common peasant with his mussed up hair, baggy sweatpants and 'it's not hoarding if it's books' t-shirt, sporting a stretched collar and stubborn spaghetti sauce stain that refused to come out in the wash. There was no comparison.

His mutinous brain was suddenly rewriting its earlier script, recasting the role, looping a new scene in his mind’s eye:

_The clench of Dean's jaw as his eyes flick hungrily over a faceless man sat across the bar. The curl of Dean's calloused fingers as they slide through cropped hair, the stranger's head tipped back to better work plush lips over stubbled jaw. The slow grate of Dean's zipper as strong fingers push inside and force a gasp from his mouth. The twist of tongues and desperate, whiskey-soaked breaths as Dean's hand unbuckles the man's belt. The effortless strength of Dean's hips as they snap against muscled buttocks. The place between Dean's eyebrows pinched into a tight wrinkle, eyes screwed shut, mouth agape in ecstasy as he spills into his perfect, tight warmth._

Dean's cologne in close proximity became unbearably cloying and Castiel felt himself sway a little on the rickety barstool holding him up. Dean moved to grab Castiel's arm to steady him but Castiel shrugged out of his grasp, waving him away.

"I'm fine, it's just - I'm just very tired. Maybe I'm coming down with something."

Dean's face wrinkled in concern, his phone all but forgotten on the table. "You do look kinda green, buddy. Was it- I didn't wanna-" Dean puffed out a breath and wiped his hand down his face. "Has it made things weird? Me telling you I... like guys too?"

"What? No," Castiel watched his hand reach out of its own accord and catch Dean's wrist gently. His self-control clearly couldn't stay in check when it came to Dean needing comfort.

He tried to ignore Dean's pulse beating rabbit-fast at his fingertips. "Why would it make things weird? I could understand if I were straight and you were worried that I'd think you were going to hit on me all of a sudden or some toxic masculinity nonsense like that, but I'm gay, Dean. Why would it matter to me?"

Castiel had to look away when Dean's teeth left grooves in the cushion of his lower lip, tiny crimps Castiel wanted to soothe with his tongue. Dean flicked his agate-green eyes up under his lashes shyly and Castiel almost pulled him into the vee of his legs then and there. 

"I guess it was something like that; that things would change because you might think I was, fuck, I don't know, perving on you when you got out of the shower or some shit. I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable around me."

Castiel could've laughed himself hoarse at the irony if it wasn't for the bashful sincerity painted across Dean's features. He was usually so cocksure- bordering on arrogant at times- so to see him look so self-conscious almost made Castiel want to personally chauffer him to his date if that would put the smile back on his face.

"Dean, think about it. If that were the case, shouldn't it be you who was worried about that? Living with an openly gay man for the last couple of years?"

"Nah man, cos I know you don't see me that way. Besides, we're in different leagues."

The anchor in Castiel's stomach dropped to core-of-the-earth depths as he finally let go of Dean's arm. Of course Dean was out of his league. It was just crushing to hear it confirmed so brazenly from the horse's mouth.

_Oh well, just toss it on the massive burning pile of 'shit you already knew'._

"You're right." Castiel stood, uselessly gathering papers to avoid the oddly despondent look on Dean's face. "Shouldn't you be going?" 

He shrugged, "I'll cancel if you're sick. Maybe bake up some of those chewy honey cookies you love so much. I think there's a couple of _Bond_ movies on the DVR, we could-" 

"Thank you, Dean, but I'll be fine." he gritted out tersely. I don't want you here out of pity for me." 

Dean's lips parted and he reeled back a little, clearly not expecting the ice that infused Castiel's tone. "I don't pity you, Cas. I care about you."

Castiel had pretty much stopped listening as soon as his friend had so tactlessly confirmed that they weren't on the same level. Now, he just wanted Dean to leave before he fell to his knees in front of the man and begged him to reconsider.

"As I said I have a lot of important work to do," he continued to evade Dean's gaze, still fiddling with notes. "You should go. You don't want to disappoint your date."

Dean stood stock still, just watching for a few moments as Castiel methodically sorted the documents into piles, then abruptly grabbed his phone and his leather jacket off the back of the couch, Baby's keys clinking in its pocket. "Yeah, I wouldn't wanna leave him standing right there, waiting. See you later, Castiel."

Dean's rare use of his full name caused Castiel to glance up in surprise but all he saw was the door swing shut, the fading sound of Dean's shoes as he descended the concrete steps from their apartment to the sidewalk. Castiel instantly ceased the trivial paper shuffling, dropping his elbows to the table and gripping two fistfuls of hair as his whole body crumpled from keeping up the pretense. He listed the utterly depressing facts he'd learned in the last ten minutes one-by-one in his mind:

_1\. Dean likes men but I'm not good enough._

_2\. Dean assumed I was already on Grindr because I'm such a hermit that my only chance of getting laid is waiting for someone to swipe right on my picture- hell, my supposed_ best friend _isn't even sure I'm_ able _to experience sexual attraction in the first place. If only he knew!_

_3\. Dean thinks so little of me that he omitted the fact he was bi for three years just in case it gave his weird gay roommate ideas._

Castiel was halfway across the kitchen and reaching for the liquor cabinet before he realised he'd even moved. That same faculty room entity that existed only to mock him laughed uproariously as Castiel peered into the empty cupboard and realised Dean must have polished off the last of the vodka _._

 _Okay, no problem, you've got beer. It'll take longer, but you should eventually get fucked up enough to forget that your heart was torn from your chest and ravaged in a blender. It's_ _fine_.

***

It was not fine. Within the hour, Castiel had chugged four of the six-pack from the fridge and was draped over the couch pathetically. He was half watching some mind-numbing show called _Say Yes to the Dress_ and half considering burning _War and Peace_ page-by-page as some sort of metaphor for how Dean made him feel, when his cell rattled itself a few inches along the coffee table in front of him.

Squinting one eye closed, he checked the bottom of the bottle in his hand to make sure it was empty before tossing it to the carpet with a dull thud, reaching lazily for his phone as it vibrated impatiently again.

**Dean:** _Feeling better?_

Castiel groaned with chagrin, resenting the fact his phone sent automatic read reports thus he was basically forced to respond. Dean never texted him when he was out with someone, why did he have to start tonight of all nights? 

Maybe Dean had apologetically told his date he needed to check-in in case his single loner roommate had jerked himself into an early grave, either that or death by a thousand papercuts from the pretentious, yawn-inducing novel he was translating. Of course, he knew Dean would never do that - Castiel was just projecting his despair onto the one person who was always there for him, even if that person had inadvertently ripped out Castiel's heart and squished it between his toes. 

**Castiel:** _Don't worry about me. I'm fine._

**Dean:** _Of course, your favourite word._

Castiel scoffed at the phone and turned himself onto his back, typing two-handed.

**Castiel:** _Meaning what? Look, shouldn't you be enjoying your date instead of texting me?_

**Dean:** _I cancelled._

Castiel squinted at the words on the screen, head tilted against the arm of the couch. Dean had spent the evening getting ready, he'd seemed excited… it didn't make sense.

 **Castiel:** _What? Why? Where are you?_

**Dean:** _You missed when and how lol._

Castiel huffed, impatient.

 **Castiel:** _Dean, I don't understand. Are you okay?_

**Dean:** _Yeah, just maybe starting to think meaningless sex is overrated._

**Castiel:** _Sex, overrated? Are you sure I'm speaking with Dean Winchester?_

 **Dean:** _I said meaningless sex, Cas. I'm not just some airhead piece of meat you know._

Castiel sat himself up and waited for his head to stop spinning before he typed, _I know you’re not._

Then, because it was true and he was feeling honest and drunk, _You're the best person I know._

Shit, what a nightmare. He stared at the screen disbelieving his own sanity. His thumbs hovered above the keys, about to say a swift goodnight so he could go fry his phone in the microwave when it buzzed again. 

**Dean:** _You're that, to me, too._

Castiel's heart caught in his throat but he barely had time to analyse the words before several messages appeared in quick succession. 

**Dean:** _Too bad I'm not your type, huh?_

**Dean:** _If I read huge books and knew how to hold a conversation that wasn't about cars or pie we'd probably make a good couple._

**Dean:** _lol_

Castiel gaped at his cell with his best goldfish impression, the text swimming across the screen as his eyes watered, unblinking. Surely Dean didn't actually believe that? He had his wires crossed somewhere; it was Castiel who was not worthy of Dean, not the other way around. 

Castiel's thumbs flew across the keyboard without him consciously formulating what he wanted to say, just knowing he couldn't allow Dean to think of himself that way for a moment longer.

**Castiel:** _That's ridiculous, Dean. I'm a plain, bookish nerd with bad dress sense and scarecrow hair. I'm awkward and blunt and more often than not people avoid having to talk to me. You're a funny, warm, smart, loyal man that everyone can't help but love and also happens to look like an actual adonis. THAT is why we wouldn't work, not because of anything you think you're lacking._

Double shit. That was way too heavy, like, lead-filled-elephants heavy. Not to mention he had just admitted he found Dean attractive. Castiel stared at the empty beer bottles, stricken. What the hell was in those Coronas, sodium pentothal?! His phone buzzed in his hand. 

**Dean:** _Tell me we haven't wasted all these years thinking we weren't good enough for each other, Cas._

Castiel scrolled up, rereading their conversation and was struck dumb by the realization that Dean thought so little of himself. But then, he always had. Castiel had been the one to encourage him to go for a promotion at work. He'd built Dean up so many times before dates and tests and meetings. Dean was immensely smart; the idea that _that_ was the only thing holding him back... Castiel shook his head in disbelief. 

He felt suddenly sober, the ramifications of Dean's confession settling fully on his shoulders. He slumped back into the couch, then got up to pace between the television and the coffee table, really _seeing_ what their earlier conversation might have meant from Dean's perspective. 

He was an idiot. So stuck in his own head, he'd been blind to what was right in front of him. 

Castiel let himself fall back onto the couch again, languished the feeling of the air knocked out of the cushions and his lungs. He let the phone slip from his hand, let the last few texts, hours, _years_ sink in. He hoped he wasn't interpreting Dean wrong, laughed a bit at the idea that a _professional translator_ couldn't read between the fucking lines.

There was only one way for Castiel to find out for sure, but if he was wrong he ran the risk of ruining their friendship and that was not an option. His fingers shook as he took a small leap of faith and answered Dean’s message. 

**Castiel:** _I'm so afraid that I'm reading you wrong and we're going to harm our friendship irreparably if I answer that question._

Castiel gripped his cellphone with an iron fist, desperate for Dean's reply yet utterly terrified of it at the same time. It took a matter of seconds but he was sure he aged twenty years watching those three little dots bounce on the screen. 

**Dean:** _I can't do this on here. I'm on my way home._

Castiel sprang from the couch, glass bottles clattering at his feet and a mantra of _oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck,_ repeating in his mind. Dean was coming home to… to what? Set him straight? Run into his arms? _Dear god let him run into my arms._

Oddly compelled to tidy up, shower, and fling himself off the balcony all at once, he struggled with where to begin. Dean must have been close because by the time his footsteps echoed up the steps all Castiel had managed to do was dump the empty bottles in the recycling and stare dazedly into space, mentally picking holes in everything to try and disprove the fact that Dean Winchester might actually feel the same as he did. 

The door flew open and there he was, altogether too beautiful, chest heaving slightly like he'd run but was trying to disguise it. 

"Dean, I-" 

"Hold on one second, Cas, just let me say something first." He was still in the doorway, knuckles alabaster-tight around the doorknob. "This is so crazy but you were right, we can't let anything ruin our friendship. Whatever either of us say tonight, promise me we'll still be best friends after. That can't change, I can't…" he exhaled hard and looked away, shaking his head, before meeting Castiel's eyes again. "I _won't_ do this otherwise."

Castiel's arms ached to reach for him but out of total panic, he remained planted to the floor. 

"Of course, Dean; that's all I want."

"Okay," Dean's shoulders sagged and he let the door swing shut behind him. "Hopefully that's not _all_ you want though."

Something playful glittered in Dean's eyes, a familiar impishness so _Dean_ it relaxed Castiel immensely, even as fear scrabbled to retain its grip around his heart. The man standing before him was still just Dean, his best friend in the world. As long as that remained the same, nothing could touch them.

Castiel took a huge breath and broke his rigid stance to risk a half-step toward the other man, still in complete disbelief that his three-year-long dreams were about to be realised. 

"We've got a lot of talking to do." 

"Yeah, we do." 

Dean was on the move before he'd finished speaking: his restraint had expired, like pulling back a toy car and letting it go. Suddenly he was right there, the heels of his hands - _his beautiful hands_ \- resting lightly at Castiel's jaw, fingertips brushing whisper-soft against his ears. It was a barely-there ghost of a touch but Castiel had never felt anything as incredible in his life.

"Dean, there's so much I want to say-" 

"We'll get there, Cas, just, can I kiss you first? God, I feel like I'll die if I don't kiss you."

Castiel whimpered and clutched Dean's face, mirroring their position, unable to keep his trembling hands off the man a second longer. They breathed into each other for a long moment, Castiel’s sapphire eyes flicking over Dean's cheeks, his jaw, his nose- anywhere but his eyes.

"Tell me it's not only for tonight, just tell me that first…" he let out a shuddering breath, and quietly added, "Please."

Dean pulled back slightly to catch Castiel's averted gaze, his own clear eyes softening in what Castiel hoped was adoration in the face of his own crippling doubt. 

"I've been in love with you for years, Castiel Novak," he thumbed at Castiel's cheeks tenderly. "Even if it's just to hold your hand, I want you tonight and every night you'll have me."

It was everything Castiel had longed to hear, the promise that it wouldn't be once and never again; he couldn't have survived that.

Instantly, the strangling grasp of fear was gone and he couldn't help but laugh a little, his chest light like he'd floated up into the sky and kept on rising. _It's true, it's real, Dean loves me._

"Well," Castiel beamed, rubbing their noses together delicately, "if you insist." 

Dean grinned and walked him backward until he hit the cool, solid wall and finally- _finally-_ their lips met. Dean slowly, languidly teased his mouth open and slid his tongue inside, unable to suppress a groan at the long-awaited first taste. Castiel quickly got with the picture, sliding his fingers through Dean's silky hair and gripping it tightly, taking everything he gave and tilting Dean's face exactly how he needed to get closer, deeper.

Dean nipped at Castiel's swollen lips then dragged his mouth down over his stubbled chin, dipping lower, softly sucking just underneath his jaw. Castiel let his head hit the wall behind him. He had never been kissed like this in his life, what had he been doing with his time? 

Dean continued lower, ghosting his mouth across Castiel's collar bone and laving his tongue over sensitive skin, leaving each place he tasted searing white-hot. Castiel leaned forward and nudged Dean back up, devouring his mouth until their jaws ached. Too enthusiastic, their teeth clashed and they broke apart chuckling and breathing hard, foreheads pressed together. 

"Fuck, that was a long time coming." Dean eventually huffed with a grin, pressing a kiss into the tip of Castiel's nose. 

"Oh, I don't know," his eyes glittered, overjoyed, "if I'm being entirely honest I would've waited for the rest of my life."

"You're a dork," Dean snorted, "but I wouldn't have you any other way." 

Castiel hummed as their lips met again, softer this time, unhurried. He broke away a few moments later and cocked his head to one side. "You taste like whiskey and… cigarettes?" 

"Yeah, sorry. I raided Baby's secret stash outta nerves," Dean blushed, automatically moving away before Castiel reeled him back in by their tangled fingers. 

"Hey, don't you dare go anywhere, I didn't say it was bad. I must taste like flat beer and cereal." 

"You taste perfect," Dean swiped his tongue over Castiel's lower lip as if to prove it, sinking into a kiss before leisurely meandering down to the skin just underneath the hinge of Castiel's bristled jaw. "Especially here," he murmured, the low rumble of his voice vibrating through Castiel's neck and shooting straight to his dick. "I can't wait to find out what the rest of you tastes like." 

Castiel stuttered as Dean nipped at his sensitive neck before pressing soothing kisses to the worried skin. "Christ, Dean, you have no idea how much I want that but I'm still a little- _ah-_ stunned by all this, shouldn't we..."

Dean sighed and grudgingly pulled back, tugging Castiel's hand to follow him to the couch. "You're right, as always, I just can't help getting carried away. I feel like any minute I'm gonna wake up with a raging boner and you shouting across the hall that I'm late for work again." 

Castiel sat down and pulled his knee up on the couch sideways, mimicking Dean so they were facing each other, fingers still entwined. He looked down at them now, rubbing his thumb over the rough pads of Dean's fingers, still not quite believing he was allowed to.

"If anyone is shocked by this turn of events, it's me. I didn't even know you were attracted to men until today." 

"I know," Dean chewed his lip, "I should've told you sooner… but I meant what I said about not wanting you to be weird with me." 

"That's ludicrous, Dean. Does it make you feel better if I tell you that every time you shower I'm stuck on pause until you come out, not knowing if you're going to appear in your sweats ready to relax with me or wearing that damn cologne to seduce someone else with?"

"I _knew_ you hated this cologne!" Dean exclaimed, "Every time I wear it you make this scrunched up face like you're sniffing a turd." 

"Thank you for that charming visual but yes, I imagine I do. It's just a reminder that you're on your way to a bed that isn't mine. Or the Impala's backseat, anyway..."

Dean extricated his fingers and cradled Castiel's jaw in his wide palm. "Hey, is that why you never let me give you a ride anywhere?" 

Castiel felt his cheeks prickle with heat against Dean's skin and suddenly he was being peppered with kisses from brow to chin. 

"Fuck, please don't tell me you've been sitting at home picturing all this every time I go out." 

"Beginning, middle and end, on repeat." Castiel managed to catch Dean's roving lips with his own and they sank into each other for long minutes, craving the comfort of one another. 

"I know I've got around in the past but you gotta know that it was never the same after we met." Dean smiled shyly, remembering. "I was gone on you the day you loaned me a quarter for the vending machine in high school." 

Castiel frowned at the ceiling, trying to recall. "That was years before we moved in together. We didn't even start talking properly until college." 

"Seven years, Cas. I was living in Narnia back then so I don't think I even knew. But I felt something, I dunno… something other than just wanting to bone and high-tail it outta there straight after." 

"Wow Dean, you really know how to romance a guy." Castiel complimented flatly. 

Dean rolled his eyes, "My point is you were the _only_ person to make me feel that. I knew nothing could ever happen: I woulda been ripped to pieces by the other guys on the football team if Dad didn't end up in jail for my murder first." He laughed hollowly, rubbing at his neck. "After that, I just avoided you at all costs. That is until we bumped into each other at college and started hanging out. By that time I'd already had experience with a guy and you seemed content on your own or whatever… I should've brought it up but we were getting to be good friends by then and it never seemed right to ask."

"But you said you knew I was gay, right?" 

"Yeah, that much was obvious. Like I'd be watching a Gunner Lawless match and you'd glance up from your book and say something like," Dean straightened up and feigned the deepest voice possible, _"’I wonder if those men realise how much underlying homoeroticism there is in this sport’_ , or when I dragged you to that frat party the other year and your soda got spiked. You ended up standing on the table and pointing at each guy, in turn, guessing whether they were a top or bottom."

Castiel groaned and fell backward into the cushions. "I thought we agreed that was never to be spoken of again." 

"I'm just saying, it was clear you weren't straight," Dean leaned over him, boxing him in with his forearms at either side of his head. "But you never seemed to have any… sorta…" he struggled, "Fuck, throw me a line here, man." 

Castiel couldn't concentrate on what was being asked of him seeing as Dean's perfect crime of a body hovered just millimetres above his own. 

"Sorry, you'll have to repeat that, please. I have six feet of gorgeous on top of me and my brain seems to have abandoned the penthouse for a party in the basement." 

Dean lost control then, his whole being racked with laughter, and Castiel couldn't help but grin as wide as his face would stretch. Dean so unadulteratedly joyous was a sight that Castiel swore there and then would be his happy place for the rest of his life. 

"That's…" Dean could barely speak, "Oh Cas that makes no sense at all… unless you have a s-serious foot fetish." he buried his face in Castiel's shirt, tears of mirth soaking into the fabric. Then he looked up sharply, "You don't, right?" 

"Not a foot fetish, no. After all, I've seen your toes." Castiel yelped as Dean playfully slapped his chest. The two of them had shifted incrementally as they spoke, Dean now settled between Castiel's parted legs. Their thickening erections didn't go unnoticed.

"Well, if not feet then what?" The humor slowly faded from Dean's eyes, his gaze firmly fixed on Castiel's lips. "C'mon, Cas. Tell me all your kinks." 

Castiel lifted his groin slightly and they both gasped at the scant contact. "How about I let you know when you trigger them." 

"Ugh, no fair. I'll tell you mine…" he brushed his parted mouth over Castiel's but Castiel was having none of that, capturing Dean's full lips in his own and only resurfacing when they had to stop for breath. 

"I'd rather discover them by experiment," countered Castiel, "but in order to do that I'll have to kiss," he pecked Dean's lips. 

"Bite," he nipped Dean's chin.

"Lick," he curled his tongue over the shell of Dean's ear. 

"And suck," he drew Dean's earlobe between his lips and pulled.

"Every. Single. Part. Of your body," he punctuated each word with a searing kiss to Dean's neck.

Dean let out a broken sob, his arms shaking with the exertion of not completely crushing the man beneath him. Castiel turned his head to face him, eyelids heavy. "If you'd be amenable to that of course." 

"How the hell did I ever think you were asexual, jesus Cas… yes, I'm amenable, I'm amenable as _fuck_." Dean rolled his hips to underline the point and Castiel couldn't possibly wait any longer- they had forever to talk, they'd work everything else out later, tomorrow, at some point in the next century: he couldn't care less.

"Dean, I know we still need to talk things through but if I don't get you in my bed in the next five seconds I think it's possible I may suffer some sort of major breakdown."

Dean clambered adorably inelegantly from the couch and took Castiel's hand, leading him to the bedroom.

***

Castiel flicked on the table lamp by the bed, dividing the room into soft yellow light and pitch-black shadow. He turned, half-expecting - hell, hoping for - Dean to pounce on him like a lion on a gazelle, but was surprised to find the other man standing in the doorway awkwardly, casting his eyes around the room. 

"Are you all right, Dean?" 

"Yeah, I'm frickin' amazing, Cas. It's just… I, I dreamt of this for so long, y'know?" His mouth pulled into a half-smile, eyes filled with incredulity. "I can't believe it's finally happening." 

Castiel rounded the bed and stood before Dean, taking his hand tentatively. "I feel exactly the same, Dean. This is not how I imagined tonight would go. I expected to be drunkenly staring into the middle distance all evening, envisioning all the things someone else was doing to you. All the ways they were touching and tasting and loving you; something I never thought I'd get to have outside of my imagination."

Dean squeezed his fingers and took a shaky breath, the heat and frenzy from before dissipated. "I know I seem all swagger and shit but this is… this is pretty damn huge for me. Like, I'm positive I'm gonna be ruined for anyone else once we actually do this."

Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean and pulled him in tight, hoping to impart all the love he felt for this man through the embrace. Dean clung to him and scoffed gently into his neck, without derision.

"I bet you never guessed I'd be this much of a sap, eh?" 

"On the contrary, I didn't think I could possibly love you any more than I already do, but you just proved me wrong. You're my best friend and I know I'll never love anyone like this as long as I live. You are everything to me, Dean Winchester." 

They held each other for a few moments, just indulging in the fact that they could.

Eventually, Dean murmured something low, just under Castiel's ear. "Will you…" he trailed off and pulled back, seeming to struggle with what he wanted to say. Castiel watched the emotions play across his face before they settled into a sort-of nervous determination. "Make love to me, Cas."

Castiel searched the taller man's reddening face, his heart so full he was sure it would explode from his chest at any moment. "Dean, there's nothing I want more but, just to be clear…" 

"I want you to fuck me- but only if it's what you wanna do too, a'course." Dean exhaled and clamped his teeth together, jaw ticking at the hinge. “It's not something I've ever done before so I might not be any good but…" he looked down, hesitant. "I always wished it could be you."

Winning the lottery on Christmas wouldn't be as fortuitous as the miracle happening right then, Castiel was certain of it. That infernal being that taunted him with wretchedly pertinent songs on the radio and guffawed at the empty liquor cupboard - well, it must have been on an extended vacation or just decided the object of his amusement finally deserved to catch a break because every dream of Castiel's seemed to be coming true in one night. 

"I would be honoured, Dean," he assented gravely, comically solemn.

"Okay, Cas-anova, don't make it weird." Dean smirked, clearly diverting with humor as he was wont to do. Dean tugged at the hem of Castiel's t-shirt. "Can I?“

Castiel raised his arms as Dean peeled it up and away, tossing it to the carpet and literally gaping wide-eyed as he scanned Castiel's torso. 

"Cas, you've been hiding all this?! I gotta start running with you, man." 

Castiel squirmed under the scrutiny and tried to cross his arms over his chest but Dean forbid it, taking Castiel's hands in his own and spreading his arms like wings. 

"You're ripped, dude, talk about making a guy feel inadequate. Sorta wish I didn't eat all that pie now," Dean chuckled, just a little too soft to be joking. 

Castiel rolled his eyes, drawing their joined hands back down and shaking his head. "I'm nowhere near 'ripped' Dean, I barely have abs. And you couldn't be inadequate if you tried; you're utterly beautiful. Kind of irritatingly so, actually." 

"Yeah yeah," Dean shrugged, still taking him in, "I'm real pretty. But you're _hot_ , Cas. Really fucking hot." 

"Believe me when I say I feel immensely insufficient next to you, Dean, whatever you may think. Can we just agree that we both find each other incredibly attractive and concentrate on making each other feel good?" Castiel raked his fingers through Dean's hair. "You're the sexiest man I've ever seen and eating every pie in existence wouldn't change that for me."

Dean looked shy all of a sudden, such a contrast to his usual surety. "Cut it out, Cas." 

"I won't, I'll tell you every day until you believe it. Until then… let me _show_ you." 

Castiel began undoing Dean's tight green shirt with a slight quake in his usually nimble fingers. After the fourth attempt to get the last button through the ridiculously small hole Dean took pity and placed his hands on top of Castiel's to take over, shrugging out of the shirt and letting it fall to the floor.

Castiel had seen Dean's bare chest plenty of times before of course, but never to touch. The fact that he could now, whenever he liked, was almost paralysing. Thankfully he had theorised this exact scenario innumerable times so knew exactly how he planned to worship Dean's body and prove to him his worth.

"Dean," he swallowed, sweeping his palms over the taller man's pectorals, "you're perfect." 

"You're one to talk," his breath hitched as Castiel's tentative thumbs brushed his nipples. "Fuck, I can't decide what I wanna do first." 

Castiel's wandering fingers drifted just above Dean's belt, his expression softly questioning. "Can I taste you?"

Dean nodded so enthusiastically he would have made an excellent addition to the Impala's dash. 

Castiel perched himself on the edge of the bed and pulled Dean to him by the hips, eye level. Dean's hardening length was just inches away, pressing impatiently at the denim as if magnetised to Castiel's watering mouth.

He pressed idle kisses to the soft flesh around Dean's navel, incredulous that the man could think himself anything but stunning just because his belly wasn't made of steel. Castiel stripped the jeans down to Dean's calves and almost died a death when he slotted his open mouth around the head of Dean's cock over already wet cotton. Castiel relished the intoxicating tang of precum as he eagerly sucked it from the fabric, the baseness of it shooting an acute bolt of pleasure to his own straining dick. 

Dean drew in a sharp breath above him and buckled when Castiel dragged his lips down his length.

"Ah fuck- Cas, you're gonna make me come if you keep teasing-" 

Castiel hooked his fingers into Dean's boxers and yanked them down roughly, Dean's _fucking perfect_ cock springing free and instantly engulfed in the searing heat of Castiel's mouth as he took him down to the root in a single attempt. 

"Jesus fuck!" Dean collapsed forward, his nails etching red lines into the meat of Castiel's shoulders as Dean struggled to remain on his feet. The sharp bite of pain only spurred Castiel on, hungrily swallowing around the thick length buried deep in his throat. He drew his lips upward in a taut O, suckling at the flushed tip as he glanced up, catching Dean's drugged gaze.

Dean spasmed forward involuntarily as they locked in a stare, his dick hitting the spongy roof of Castiel's throat and causing him to pull off, spluttering at the unexpected intrusion.

"Shit! Sorry," Dean pulled away and took Castiel's face in his hands, regret and concern coloring his features, "are you okay?“ 

"I have genuinely never been better, now give that back, please." Castiel reached out impatiently and was momentarily surprised when, instead of getting that flawless cock back in his mouth, Dean stepped back to kick off his shoes and jeans and clambered onto Castiel's lap, winding his arms around his neck and fiercely capturing his lips in a bruising kiss.

Castiel pressed his fingertips into Dean's thighs as they plundered each other's mouths, an obscene noise escaping his lips when Dean's hand snaked between the tight space between their bodies and into his sweatpants, closing around his almost painfully hard dick. 

Kissing quickly became as unfathomable as brain surgery now that Dean's hand was on him, all Castiel's fantasies made manifest. Castiel panted against Dean's cheek instead, tipping his head down to watch the purpled head appear and disappear in Dean's fist. 

"Christ, Dean…"

"Feel good babe?" Dean murmured into his ear, the endearment melting Castiel's thudding heart. 

"It feels unbelievable. Keep _ah!_ " Castiel gasped as Dean pressed his own slippery cock into the equation, taking them both in hand. He could barely catch his breath it was so exquisite, but a miniscule voice in the back of his mind reminded him that no, he couldn't come all over Dean's cock like he so desperately wanted to: not when making love to him was on the table. 

Castiel gripped Dean's thighs tighter and hauled him over onto his back with a bounce, moving over him and dropping a kiss to his feverish cheekbone. He planted his arms either side of Dean's head in reverse of their position on the couch.

"If you still want me to fuck you we have to stop. I've imagined this for so long I'm ashamed to say it will be over very quickly if you continue what you were doing."

Dean grinned up at him, his bottom lip trapped enticingly between his teeth, hand working lazily over his own dick. "Hell yeah, I do… So, I'm living up to your spank-bank fantasies then?" 

"You are far surpassing anything I could've ever imagined, just by being here with me," Castiel answered truthfully, his eyes soft. "Do you have protection? I have some lube but…"

"Nightstand drawer, left side."

Castiel nodded and pecked Dean's lips chastely. "Get comfortable, I'll be back shortly." 

He left the room at a speed that would give Usain Bolt a complex, something Castiel would've found embarrassing if he didn't know for certain Dean was as desperate as he was. 

_Huh_. 

Castiel paused for a second as he dug around the mess of junk in Dean's drawer. At some point during all this, his brain had _finally_ accepted that Dean truly did want him too, as inconceivable as it was. As his fingers closed around a strip of condoms, Castiel stood up and indulged the impulse to thrust his fist in the air, _extremely_ uncharacteristic and cringeworthy but very much condonable in the circumstances, he felt. 

Shucking his pants just outside his bedroom door and flicking them inside with a flourish of the foot (much to Dean's audible amusement) Castiel climbed onto the bed and knee-walked up the mattress to where Dean had propped himself up on the pillows, fingers laced behind his head like he was under arrest for crimes against all things holy. 

Seeing Dean spread out on his bed like a royal banquet, naked and waiting, caused Castiel to come to an abrupt halt as he took it all in: the cut of his biceps where they tensed in their raised position; the head of his cock leaking a line of fluid that pooled on the light hairs of his abdomen; the perfectly imperfect smattering of white scars dotting his body from minor mishaps at work… It was all so tangible, so much more authentic than he ever pictured in those awful visions he had orchestrated in his mind. None of that was real: _this_ was. 

Realising he'd spent the last few moments just leering stupidly at Dean's body, Castiel crimsoned and was about to fumble some sort of apology when he realised Dean was just as captivated by his own exposed form. 

"I couldn't really tell before but woah," he looked a little shell-shocked. "You're kinda huge."

The heat in Castiel's cheeks reignited as he grasped what Dean meant, ducking his head and tossing the foil packets down next to them. "It's absolutely okay if you're reconsidering having penetrative sex, Dean, I know you haven't-" 

"I said I hadn't bottomed for anyone before, not that I haven't fooled around with- _stuff_ \- back there." Dean contracted Castiel's fading blush and shook his head, frowning at his own ineptitude for discussing anything even remotely personal. "You're too far away; get up here." 

Castiel acquiesced and after a little jostling they were lying parallel, eye to eye, quietly tracing fingertips along each other's flanks, arms, back, anywhere they could comfortably reach. It felt so profoundly intimate; caressing and just _looking_ at one another, all that frenzy and haste simmered down to something more significant that neither of them was in a hurry to escalate. 

Castiel shifted up onto his left elbow, letting his eyes fall closed as he ducked down to press his lips to Dean's. He lazily worked Dean's mouth open in a slow slide of tongues and quiet moans, their hands everywhere.

Applying gentle pressure to Dean's hip, Castiel carefully rolled him onto his back and hovered over him, kissing deeply all the while. Reaching up with his right hand he fumbled blindly on the shelf above the headboard, locating a small bottle of lubricant and pressing it into Dean's hand, finally pulling their kiss-swollen lips apart. 

"Here, can you-"

"Yeah, gimme your hand." 

Dean thumbed the cap open and squeezed a generous amount onto Castiel's fingers, dropping the bottle next to the condoms and pulling Castiel by the neck until their lips met again. Dean’s grip on the back of Castiel's head tightened as he rolled his slippery palm over the head of Dean's cock just once, a tease he knew they were too close to the edge to sustain. His fingers drifted lower until he was circling Dean's hole, eliciting a thoroughly delicious sound from the man underneath him.

Castiel rubbed the sensitive muscle of Dean's entrance, slowly building pressure until a finger slipped inside and Dean broke the kiss, breath hitching. Castiel stilled his hand at once but Dean shook his head before he could ask. 

"I'm good, don't stop. Fuck it just feels amazing to have you inside'a me, Cas." 

Castiel exhaled, relieved. "You feel incredible too, Dean." 

"Keep kissing me, okay?" 

Castiel couldn't have agreed more, slanting their mouths together again as he resumed working his finger into Dean slowly, twisting the digit a little on the out as he liked when he did this by himself. 

Soon Castiel was swallowing the other man's lust-filled cries as Dean rocked onto his middle two fingers, spurring him on to drive them faster, deeper, until he found the spot that made Dean arch his beautiful body right up off the bed. 

"Yes! There! Fuck, do that again-" 

Castiel curled his fingers once more and pushed both pads onto Dean's prostate, simultaneously thrusting his tongue inside Dean's mouth, palm pressed firmly up against his balls.

Dean tore his lips away with a ragged sob and threw his head back, jaw slack and eyes screwed shut in sheer euphoria. Castiel dove in on his bared neck instantly, sucking bruises all along the column, breathing in that fucking cologne right down to the bottom of his lungs. He relished it now, knowing the connotations it had held would be forever replaced by this, the first time he watched the love of his life come apart beneath him. 

"Cas, I'm ready, I need you-" Dean panted, grappling at the comforter until he found the condoms, tearing one off the strip with his teeth and ripping it open. 

Castiel nodded eagerly, the coolness of sweat chilling his skin as he peeled away from Dean, mindfully removing his fingers and kneeling up so Dean could reach him.

Now that he wasn't lost in the other man's mouth, Castiel could see just how ready Dean was: a mixture of precum and lube glistened along his rigid cock, some of it smeared across his belly, his length flushed with the same deep shade of rouge that spread across the breadth of his chest. A thin sheen of perspiration covered him from head to toe, his skin shimmering with it, exquisite.

Castiel's own fluid was daubed along Dean's hip and thigh where he had mindlessly rutted whilst burying his fingers inside the perfect man beneath him. He had all but forgotten about his own erection, solely focused on Dean and wringing all the pleasure out of him he could, but all that changed as Dean tilted forward and took Castiel into his mouth. 

"Oh god, Dean, _fuck!_ " his outcry could surely be heard on the next block, the wet suction of Dean's mouth beyond compare. "You have to- I'm- Dean, stop!" 

Dean slid his lips away with a tight pop that almost pulled Castiel's orgasm from him then and there, running his tongue over his lips greedily, chasing every drop of Castiel's essence.

"You just taste so good, Cas; I could blow you all day." He grinned mischievously whilst rolling the condom down Castiel's length. 

"That can certainly be arranged," Castiel panted raggedly, battling to control his burning need for release, "but right now I'm about three seconds from coming all over you and never being able to stop."

"I'm right there too, babe," he swung his leg over so Castiel was between his thighs and stuffed a spare pillow under his hips to tilt them up. "Can we do it like this? Next time we can try a million other positions and see how long we can go but right now I gotta look into those gorgeous eyes when I come on your cock." 

Castiel bit his cheek sharply at Dean's words, drawing blood; the bitter-copper taste fusing with his own musky flavour as he leaned down and slotted Dean's plush lips between his own. They kissed as he slid a hand down to line himself up at Dean's hole, pressing the over-sensitive head against him. 

"I love you, Dean, so much," he breathed, suddenly feeling choked as Dean raked a hand through his sweat-damp hair. 

"I love you too, Castiel," Dean rasped, throat thick with emotion. "I've never said it to anyone before and I never want to say it to anyone else."

Castiel was determined not to cry but felt the prickle of tears in his eyes as he slid home, oh so slowly, allowing Dean to adjust around him inch by inch. Their mouths were slack against each other, exchanging heaving breaths, both trembling at the intensity. 

When at last Castiel's hips pressed flush against Dean's ass, he lifted up off of his chest and searched his eyes anxiously. "Talk to me, Dean, does it feel okay?" 

"It's a lot, I'm not gonna lie," Dean swallowed. "I mean, you're bigger than anything I've… y'know. But it's me and you, Cas. It was always gonna feel unbelievable."

Castiel squeezed his eyes closed against the rising tide of emotion, dropping kisses over Dean's face, anywhere he could reach. "I won't move until you say, just keep talking to me." 

"I'm good, you can move," he insisted as Castiel licked a stripe up his neck, "I won't break. I wanna be able to feel you when I'm fixing us breakfast in the morning." 

"You're so tight, Dean, I don't know if I can last very long." Castiel murmured into his ear, his voice like gravel. "Forgive me if this ends just after it's begun." 

"There's nothing to forgive. Hey, it's a good thing in my book." Castiel twisted to face him quizzically. Dean just shrugged, the corners of his mouth pulling up. "Means we can do it again sooner." 

Castiel huffed a laugh which turned into a mutual groan when the motion did _things_ at the place they were joined. He flexed his hips experimentally, drawing out just a little and pushing back in, deeper than he had been before, and Dean's whole torso bowed upward. 

"Fuck, right there _ah-_ " 

Castiel straightened up a little and laced his fingers with Dean's, their fists pressing into the pillow by Dean's head. Using the grip as leverage, Castiel began to pull out a little further each time before snapping back home, rolling his pelvis in a sinuous rhythm that he knew he couldn't endure much longer, Dean’s cock trapped between them in a firm slide.

"Dean," he gasped, a bead of sweat dripping from his hair as their bodies undulated, serpentine. "Dean, I need to..." 

"More, Cas, god you're fucking hot. I'm gonna come so hard." 

Castiel knelt up and pressed one of Dean's thighs down into his chest, almost bending him in half. Clutching Dean's knee, Castiel pulled almost all of the way out, the head of his cock just catching on Dean's swollen rim, and drove back inside just as he curled his other hand around Dean's copiously leaking cock. Dean erupted the second Castiel touched him, line after line of come splattering on his chest and stomach as he yelled himself hoarse around Castiel's name. 

The remote thought that he genuinely wouldn't care if he went blind tomorrow crossed Castiel's mind. He knew with unshakeable certainty that he'd never again see anything as magnificent as Dean Winchester falling apart because of _him._

The sight of Dean covered in his own release coupled with the relentless clench of his tight walls around Castiel's cock syphoned all the air from his lungs like a vacuum, his pummelling hips slamming home once more as he went rigid, spilling over and over and over again, deep into Dean's constricting heat.

After long minutes of getting their breathing back into a pattern capable of speech, Castiel gently pulled out and tied off the condom, pitching it into the trashcan next to the bed. He shifted to lie beside Dean, who instantly turned and kissed him deeply with a profound level of adoration that could only be described as pure and unquestionable love.

"God, I love you so much Cas, you don't even know," Dean whispered against his lips, cupping Castiel's jaw in his palm reverently as their eyes met and Castiel realised Dean was crying. 

"Dean, what's wrong?" 

"Nothing, I'm fine," he sniffed, "I just got some grit in my eye or something."

"Oh yes, I know how you feel; I had some grit in my eye a minute ago, too." Castiel smiled, tipping Dean's chin up with his thumb and pecking him lightly on the lips. "And I can promise you that no matter how much you love me, I love you about eight-point-five billion times more." 

"Only eight point five, eh?“ Dean smirked and threw a leg over Castiel's hip, eyes glassy but twinkling. "Do ya think I could get up to an even ten if I suck you off in the shower?“

Castiel pretended to consider it an inconvenience, sighing exaggeratedly and sliding his arm under Dean's neck, pulling him close to his chest. "I suppose I could live with that." 

"Well good, cos I ain't going anywhere." 

They were quiet for a time, content just to be with one another with the barriers down, all either of them had ever really wanted.

Castiel pushed his nose further into Dean's hair, murmuring against his crown. "What you said earlier, about never having told anyone else you love them..."

"Yeah?" Dean answered too quickly to disguise the hint of fear in his tone. "I said it because it was true, as weird as it probably is-" 

"You're the first person I've loved too, the _only_ person. I can't imagine I'll ever love anyone else." 

Dean drew back and met Castiel's eyes, his expression devastatingly hopeful. "Seriously? You wanna be with me for good?“

Castiel shook his head in bewilderment at Dean's preposterously low self-worth. He would spend his every waking moment continuing to rectify that. "Dean, I'd go and marry you this minute if I didn't think we'd get arrested for public indecency." 

"Dork," Dean snorted but was clearly delighted at Castiel's words if the beatific smile on his face was any indication. 

"So, until I _officially_ ask you to be mine forever… would you agree to being my last 'I love you'?" 

Dean blinked slowly, staring at Castiel as if he was the eighth wonder of the world. 

"Only if you'll be mine."

They sealed it with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Phew, that's it! First fic done *collapses*
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed it- if you did, leaving a comment would mean EVERYTHING to me! I have no idea what the Kudos button actually does, but feel free to click that too 😅 
> 
> If you'd like to reblog/retweet/rec this fic, here are the links: [Tumblr](https://clownish1.tumblr.com/post/190443005388/title-the-last-i-love-you-fandom) [Twitter](https://twitter.com/_clownish_/status/1220777190083694594?s=19) [PB Discord](https://discord.gg/profoundbond)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! ❤️


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